


Winter Rain

by deutschgreen



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Mental Health Issues, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27721682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deutschgreen/pseuds/deutschgreen
Summary: modern settingIn which Alfred is a psychiatrist and the Crow is his patient.References of depression/mental illness.
Relationships: Alfred/Bloody Crow Of Cainhurst
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Winter Rain

5:50 a.m., without an alarm clock, Alfred got up, drank water, stepped on the treadmill for forty minutes, showered, and started his breakfast of orange juice and cereal. He should have gone out for a run, but it had been raining in the city for over two weeks, so he had to settle for less.

7:00, he put on his pullover sweater and a parka. He left the house, remembering before he left that he had forgotten his glasses and wasted two minutes going back to look for them. He walked three blocks to the subway station to go to work, encountering five pigeons, two rabbits, numerous rats, and, notably, a crow cackling and flying overhead, probably indicating a rough week.

7:55, he changed into his hospital lab coat and went to meet his first patient of the week.

Unlike what the “normies” would expect, Alfred was too straight, too handsome, too strong, with a sunny face that "grew up on burgers and juice" (juice was good, but forget the burger junk), to be trusted with a patient who could relate to him. The psychiatrist's sincere eyes could even lead to deeper despair when he looked into the eyes of a patient who had been discriminated against on the basis of race, womanhood, appearance, etc. Alfred, of course, understood this, so he wore his white coat meticulously and his flat gold glasses, even though he was not nearsighted, to try to get even the slightest slant on his impression.

He walked through the long corridor of clinic rooms toward his own at the end of the hallway, the public (and perhaps private) areas of a public psychiatric hospital has never been pleasing, with people walking around anxiously, people howling at the top of their lungs, and people being held up by relatives to prevent them from slamming any part of their bodies against the wall.

A man carrying a black coat in his hands was sitting at the end of the corridor, a long, solid black umbrella that was seen everywhere was lean by his side. Alfred was somehow reminded of a sheathed sword. That man’s head was bowed and he was unaccompanied, like a lonely flower.

Five minutes later, he pushed open the door to Alfred's consulting room.

"Come in, please. Take it easy, just hang your coat on that coat rack."

It was obviously raining quite a bit outside, even though the man had an umbrella with him, his hair was still a little wet. It was only then that Alfred noticed that he had long grayish-white hair, but there was no mistaking him for an old man; the man had an athletic gait and a straight figure, though the facial mask prevented Alfred from seeing all of his face, it was unlikely that he was older.

The white-haired young man sat across from Alfred and handed over a stack of test reports. Alfred gave it a cursory glance, results stating severe depression was worthless (who can't make up results?). The blood test was not abnormal except for a high number of red and white blood cells (that could be because he was sick and had inflammation in his body).

"Doctor, I want to die now," He spoke calmly.

"Death is the final destination for all of us," Alfred said softly, "but you are still too young to touch it. Do you mind if I ask why?"

The room was heated with extra AC and was a little warm. The young patient took off his mask and gloves and began to look Alfred in the eye. This is not too common, most patients are not very communicative, let alone bold enough to look the doctor in the eye, and Alfred was tempted to think that this was just a preposterous bore wasting public health care resources - but as soon as he saw the patient's face, he decided to forgive this dude for about a minute, even if this was the case.

"I don't really understand. When I walk across the street, I imagine being hit by a car; when I look down from a tall building, I imagine falling to pieces; when I have knives in my hands, it takes a lot of effort to keep them from stabbing myself - but beyond that, I feel my memory fading, like an old man with Alzheimer's. Sometimes I go from the bedroom to the kitchen, then forget what I'm going to get and stand there for hours. I try not to let it show ...... but there's nothing more I can do."

Alfred typed in a few key words on his computer, smiling and nodding to the patient to show that he hadn't wandered off.

"Did you have a good night's sleep?"

There was no need to ask, as one could easily see by the dark circles under his beautiful eyes, but the young man still held his hands to his forehead and shook his head, small of the arms covering his face. The dark shirt slipped from his thin wrists, revealing pale skin and numerous neat bloodstains.

Insomnia, loss of appetite and a tendency to self-harm, Alfred continued to record.

"Do you have family and friends here? This is not to pry into your privacy, just to know if you have an outlet for your emotions."

"My foster mom doesn't live far away and sometimes visits me. I also have a few ...... friends, but ...... I don't know if they can help ......"

Foster mother. Alfred wrote down key words.

The consultation lasted for an hour or longer, Alfred managed to get some information out of the young man, but it was clear that the patient did not trust him enough on the first meeting. What the psychiatrist could barely guess was that the source of the illness came from a tragic childhood experience - which is the source of many depressions. But what kind of experiences? What kind of pain can last to this day?

"I am prescribing you a week's portion of sleeping pills, please make sure not to take more than one per day. There are also several mood stabilizers that are recommended to be taken at regular times of the day, see this prescription for details. And - no more drugs, even if they are the only thing that can get rid of your nightmares, okay? They won't make you better."

The patient lifted his eyes and looked at the blond psychiatrist with slight surprise.

"It's cold outside, and there's a truck selling hot cider just one block away to the left of the hospital entrance, so hopefully it will warm your winter by a little bit.

"The follow up appointment is scheduled for the same time next week ...... Your job doesn't require much sitting, does it? The inquiry may take a while-"

"No." The patient replied quickly, "See you next week."

He put his mask and gloves back on, took his coat from the rack and draped it over his shoulders, and turned to leave in a manner that reminded Alfred of the black feathers of the crow he had seen in the morning.

The second patient soon walked in.

\-------------------------------------------------------  
The oak tabletop of Alfred's consultation room left a drop of blood from the young man's wound, which had been torn open when he got up.

Alfred was completely unaware of it, but the chief physician on duty, Dr. Iosefka, pointed to the drop of blood together with his notes of inquiry and noted gravely, "Look at this, you should have hospitalized him immediately."

"The patient is an adult, we can't force him to do anything," said Alfred. "Besides, I don't think that hospitalization will do him any good. Of course your patients won't commit suicide, they’re almost some vegetable, where would they get the guts to do so?"

"You better remember what you said today." Iosefka snickered and walked away.

It hadn't stopped raining this week, and as an environmentalist, Alfred didn't like to overuse the dryer, but the inability to dry his clothes naturally made him feel miserable and added to his carbon footprint. He mechanically repeated the answers he learned in school and practice, writing individualized prescriptions and getting grateful looks from patient after patient. Others simply confided in him about their life, relationship, and work woes. The fact that a young doctor listened attentively was a relief in itself, resolving the problem before it had progressed to a severe illness. Alfred, who had stayed indoors on his days off and weekends, with water seeping through his bedroom window, had never looked forward to a Monday so much.

8 am on Monday morning, the white-haired young man arrived, as promised. 

Like last time, he hung his cyan blue coat on the rack, raindrops beading on the tweed, rolling down and quickly evaporating. The man was wearing a pearly white shirt under the coat, which meant he wasn't bleeding this time. Probably a good thing.

"How has your week been? Did you pay attention to my suggestion last time?" Alfred adjusted his tone to make it sound like a perfectly normal pleasant chat, while in his hand he took a disposable paper cup and poured it full of hot tea, pushing it to the white-haired patient. "This is herbal tea, helps you to calm down - and is theophylline-free. I hope you have a strict abstinence from alcohol and coffee."

"I feel myself becoming ...... blunt." The young man carefully considered the wording, strangling his fingers together and ignoring the cup in front of him: "Before, I often felt moments when some emotions rose to the surface and they overwhelmed me... leaving only darkness in my eyes. But now I can see them coming, I am ready for them, but they won't come. I feel like Dionysius waiting in fear for the sword to fall, it is not the sword that is frightening, but the uneasiness that hangs in the balance."

Alfred wanted to say that Adonis was the one for him.

"That's where the treatment medicine comes in," said Alfred, taking a sip from his glass, "Our emotions are animals that accompany our own feelings, but yours becomes a beast that tears you apart and makes you feel pain...we will have to put it in a cage for a while, and one day you will recall the days when you lived with it in peace, then you will not have to come to me again."

"I hope so."

"You'll be fine."

"Maybe."

"You mentioned last time that maybe you didn't want to die, but just couldn't hold on to anymore...Death is like a last refuge, an eternal harbor that is always waiting for you at the end, despite facing countless tortures. Is that still the case?"

"I think so. Only by remembering to be able to choose death do I have the power to make this body move."

"By the way, I almost forgot to bring it up," Alfred finished his recording and rose from his chair, "are you allergic to dogs?"

Therapy dogs bred by a nearby charity organization come to the hospital from time to time, to provide soft healing services. Today happened to be the day they were on duty. As Alfred watched his patient sitting on the carpet, slowly combing his delicate fingers through the dense, curly hair of a golden retriever named Alfie, the dog, who was clearly enjoying himself, squinted and puffed his fluffy head against the young man's chest, leaving a mess of golden brown dog hair on the fine fabric. Dogs are amazing creatures, their love seems almost inexhaustible, compared to what humans can provide, how generous they are in return.

The young man suddenly looked up, meaningfully at Alfred's golden curls, and then went back to stroking the big dog's fur.

It was not the first time that Alfred had been implied to look like some kind of medium-sized dog, but the first time he had been targeted in such a way, the fact that the dog's name was so similar to his made him lost for words. He knew that he should not be serious with the patient anyway. Alfred gazed at the slender neck when the patient bowed his head. If I pressed my finger on it and pressed harder, would it leave a bruise? Will he struggle to survive by instinct, or will he thank Alfred for the relief he has granted him?

Dangerous thoughts, Alfred reacted in a trance. Instead of saving lives, the thought of killing prevailed; or even the fact that he cared about his patients to this extent was unethical in itself. Trying to pull himself out of his muddy thoughts, Alfred regained consciousness and found the young patient standing right in front of him. The pearly white shirt was unbuttoned at the top, his pale neck was fully exposed within his reach.

"Doctor, you're not fit to wear glasses or be a listener ...... but I appreciate your warmness anyway."

The patient's words in his ear pierced Alfred's perfect life open like a katana. He was influenced by the people around him, with the desire to help others, growing up to be both the top student and the most eye-catching athlete in bodybuilding; he went all the way to the highest educational institutions, internships, graduations, hospitals, and in the future he would open his own private clinic; the men and women he had dated were the same as him in terms of excellence and flawlessness, they met socially, dated, and said amicably Good-bye, for the sake of future cooperation; it's not that he hasn't had dark thoughts, but they've always been immediately suppressed, without exception, and even less likely to be put into practice ...... But what if there was a chance? Would he have killed the pale patient if there had been no one there, and no social rules to restrain him? He will. He definitely will.

The white-haired young man left again. Alfie whimpered in a clinging voice. He brought with him an appointment slip for the same time next week, and a prescription pad with double the dose of medication.

Alfie returned to the consultation room and found a piece of paper at the edge of the coat rack. It was a ticket to a three-act opera this Thursday, prime seats at a great price. Something like this had happened many times before, and he knew exactly who had pulled this silly stunt.

Thursday was Alfred's day off, how the man had found out - it wouldn't have been hard, a glance at the public schedule on the Internet should have given him an idea.

He didn't go, of course, no matter how aware of his own dark side, the blond doctor was still following the most basic principles, taking sexual advantage of a patient from a position of superiority is too much in any case; he wouldn't have said no either, since it could have been the last straw that broke the camel's back for mentally fragile people. But it might be a good opportunity to observe the patient's condition, so he asked a new outsider colleague who had only recently arrived and had an interest in opera - a guy who named himself Flora- to observe the left and right sides of his seat, especially the ones with long white hair.

11:30 p.m. on that night, Alfred was bombarded with phone calls that woke him from his sleep. He picked up the phone only to hear Flora wailing in frustration, "Your patient is horrible!"  
"What happened? Does he look normal and healthy?"  
"Normal ...maybe? Dressed like anyone else who comes to the opera ...... he found out it wasn't you, it was me, said nothing at first, I was going to think you were mistaken, but then he said to me in the second intermission ......".  
"What did he say?"  
"He whispered in my ear that he was going to rip out my insides and hang them from a crystal chandelier. I was in all cold sweat! He acted so intimately that the audience thought we were in love - no, the ticket money wasn't enough to cover my mental anguish! You have no idea how scary it was! I really thought I was going to die! This lunatic even shed a tear when the heroine died in the finale, gosh I am the one that wants to cry ok ......"  
"Okay, okay, what else do you want?"  
"At least you should pay my dry-cleaning fees of my outfit, it suddenly started raining super-"

Alfred pushed the phone off and went back to sleep. Flora's shouted mental anguish would be taken care of by buying him a St*rb*cks Seasonal Special, the outfit thing was just a phone call away from the dry cleaners. Knowing that "he" was still alive and that they would see each other again in three days gave the doctor a guilty thrill.

Perhaps it wasn't such a terrible thing to actually leave the profession. If it was the price of a real date with that eccentric lunatic, it's almost nothing. Alfred wanted to feel the insanity of reason, to hold his pale wrists until they left bruised fingerprints, to see the tears roll down his marble cheeks.

Three days later, it would be the last time, he thought. Alfred could hand this patient over to a more experienced and older doctor. Alfred himself could accompany him on the interview as a friend or family member, and it wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing to look at his place of work from a different perspective.

The weekend passed with anxious anticipation. When Monday morning came, he was somewhat surprised to find the patient absent.

[sorry i overslept… can i come in this afternoon? 9.03 a.m.]  
All the patients had his cell phone number, but he would only use it for appointment information and the normal scope of his consultation. Overslept... At least there is no insomnia?  
The appointment should have been canceled without 24 hours' notice, but Alfred's desire to see him again overwhelmed everything.  
[Yes, but you'll have to wait until after 5:00. 9.04 am] It’s OK to stay a little longer.  
[okay :D Thanks ( 'ω') 10.40.am]

Alfred had no idea that the whitehead patient was the type to clip emoticons in text messages. He walked to the remote smoking room and smoked three cigarettes long enough to calm his nerves and be able to continue with his next patient.

5 pm, the patient appeared. No umbrella this time, the leather biker jacket was covered in fine droplets, shiny helmet carried in his hand. His other leather-gloved hand was haphazardly combing through his long, mussed hair.

"You look better," said Alfred, "but don't stop or cut back on your medication. Did you come on a motorbike? It's hard to find a parking space at the hospital."

"I used to walk here. But thinking that my dear ride has been dusty for too long, maybe I should let her get some wind, like I have."

"Everyone has something they're good at, like me, I'm better in biking, preferably on a mountain. Maybe someday I'll be able to appreciate the beauty of land flying. After all, nothing lasts forever."

"Even the rain?"

"Even the rain."

As if to confirm Alfred's words, as they chatted, the overcast rain that had been falling outside the window for over a month gradually stopped. The sun, which was sinking in the west, struggled to show a red glow from the clouds. The sunlight was fading, but the clouds were dissipating faster, in a few minutes, a large patch of deep, light purple faded to a thin red glow could be seen outside the window.

The blond doctor gave him the same amount of medication as last time, but with a reduced supply of sleeping pills. Without comment, the patient grabbed the prescription and stuffed it into the pocket of his tight leather pants. He had lost quite a bit of weight and looked emaciated, but his long legs still showed signs of their once well-balanced appearance.

"Alfred," he smiled back at the doctor on his way out, the smile becoming illusory as the evening light added a fake hint of color to his always pale face, "Tomorrow will be a good day."

\-----------------------------

Alfred went home, printed out his resignation report and put it in a folder.

Tuesday was indeed a beautiful day, the sky was blue without a cloud, the water mounds from the months of rain were slowly being dried by the sun, and the damp clothes were drying naturally. Alfred stepped through the doors of the hospital with secret hope, but instead of being greeted by patients and colleagues, he was greeted by Valtyr, the neighborhood sheriff.

"Your patient, the white haired one, killed himself last night. Soaked in his own blood. Sent a timed message beforehand for cops to clean up the body", Iosefka's voice was cold, "he really should have been hospitalized."

After all, it was a homicide, and he had a fresh prescription in Alfred's handwriting in his pocket, so it was only natural that the cops would come to the door to ask a few questions.

At least I wouldn't have to resign, Alfred thought.

"...... so he wasn’t quite a nice guy, both victimization and criminal records were found, but it was many years ago. Don’t know why he’s considering suicide after all these years, the bad part has already passed. It's okay, Doc, you're a decent and honorable man, the surveillance records show that you've fulfilled your obligations fully, you're not legally or morally responsible for his death." Without asking too many questions, Valtyr patted Alfred on the shoulder after watching the surveillance and left.

The warm winter sun seemed harsh. Perhaps it was true that nothing lasts forever.

**Author's Note:**

> *After witnessing parents’ murder in childhood, the crow involved in prostitution, drug dealing and other crimes to survive. He was then adopted by Eileen and quitted that kind of “life”, that’s why Valtyr said it was many years ago


End file.
